Blood Bonds
by Sage Darkwoods
Summary: Angel Forever Knight crossover. Cassie Harvey went to Los Angeles to do research on blood transformations. When she meets Angel and the rest of his crew, she finds she may have more work than she had planned. Angel: after Time Bomb FK: post Season 3.
1. Acquaintances

**Blood Bonds**

by Sage Darkwoods

**Disclaimer:** The characters in this story that were created by Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy belong to them and them alone. No infringement is intended, and no profit is being made.

**Author's Note:** This was a plot bunny that pranced through my sleeping brain in the form of a dream. It was much more outlandish than this in my dream. For one, the main character said things like, "Hey! You're Angel! Cursed with a soul! And you're Darla! Hey, weren't you pregnant?" Knowing every single facet of the 'Verse would have completely ruined the story. I blame this on reading vampire-themed fanfiction (glares at Vega: Curse you for writing well!) and watching Angel directly before going to bed.

**Chapter 1: Acquaintances**

The Sunnydale Music Festival this year was packed. Twelve bands in total were on the bill; most local high school bands, but a few that were gaining momentum and a following in the local press. One group in particular was interesting to watch perform. The Hellyons were an aggressive heavy rock band that favoured distorted guitars and bass notes that vibrated right to a person's core. They also favoured a bit of performance art in their live performances. Tonight (as they were always billed at night, for good reason) a woman wearing a leather bikini and thigh high boots was gyrating in a corner with a large snake draped across her shoulders. On the other side of the stage, two vampires were eating ham sandwiches on rye bread. That's right, two vampires, eating sandwiches, wearing leather jackets emblazoned with the band's logo. It was either very clever makeup, or the band was really pushing their luck.

Cassie Harvey pushed her way through the crowd to get closer to the stage. She had flown down from Toronto for two weeks for two reasons: to visit with the UCLA Department of Biology, to interview a professor for her master's, and to watch this band in particular play. She'll be damned if she missed it because of some pushy groupies.

The band launched into a heavy version of Aerosmith's Walk This Way. The gyrating in the corner became a bit more intense. The vampires were finishing their sandwiches. If she didn't see it with her own eyes, Cassie would have said someone was making it up. The lead singer was doing a good job of screaming out Steven Tyler's lyrics, then hit the distortion pedal for his guitar. One of the vampires left the stage and out the wings. Cassie followed, notepad in hand.

She caught up with him, surrounded by three scantily-clad groupies, all giggling and fawning. Cassie resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

"Wow, you look so good in that jacket!"

"Like, you're amazingly cool!"

"You're so hot! Do you have a girlfriend?"

"Do you find it difficult to eat the sandwich? You know, with the fangs and all."

The groupies turned to stare at her. "What are you talking about?" one scoffed, a look of disdain on her face.

"I was also wondering," Cassie continued, stepping closer. "How do you manage to keep the food down?"

One of the girls made a gagging noise, and all three looked disgusted. "Oh, my god," one uttered.

"Oh, you girls think he's just one of the band?" Cassie said with feigned surprise. They looked at her quizzically, visibly lost. Cassie sighed. "Never mind," she said and started to walk away. The vampire reached out and grabbed her elbow. Cassie hid her smile. "Yes?" she said and turned to him.

"You know things," he said slowly, as though the thought had just occurred to him that girls actually think. "Have dinner with me tonight."

Cassie grinned. This was easier than she expected.

They met at the only Italian restaurant in town. It was a relatively small town, Cassie noted, but due to the high percentage of dead people, it wasn't all that surprising. Peter, who had walked in without the "makeup" as he called it, talked over a glass or red wine, while Cassie had some garlic bread with cheese. Might as well keep up with the superstitions; they have to exist for a reason.

"So, I said to the stage manager, 'Look, we can only play at night!' And he says, 'Why?' And I say 'Because, we're vampires!' And he says, 'Right buddy, and I'm the King of England.' So I salute him with my middle finger and pushed him off the stage!"

"Fascinating," Cassie intoned, poking at her bread. The word 'manager' was the longest word he had pronounced since he started talking fifteen minutes ago. As a vampire, he was unsuccessful at best. If his plan was to bore her to death, he would succeed. She figured she'd have to get him to stop talking eventually, so she could get him to do what she wanted. Otherwise, it would be a waste of an evening.

"Tell me, Peter," she drawled. "How did such a dashing guy like yourself become what you are today?" She batted her eyes for effect.

He smiled and reached for her hand. "I talked to the right chick in a bar. She offered me power, fame, and immortality."

"You know, Peter, I do know things. I know what you really are. So you can drop the rock star act and you can be honest with me. How long have you been dead?"

His smile faltered. "You know? B-but… you're not running away –"

Oh, this one's sharp as a tack, she thought. Instead, she said, "That's cause you're hot, silly," and feigned a giggle. "I've met a few vampires before, but no one like you. I've never met a vampire as, um, amazingly cool as you. You've got to be a real badass vampire."

"Yeah? You think so?"

"Of course!" she gushed. "In fact, I could see how that chick you met wanted you on her side – what do you call her?"

"My sire," he replied, and puffed out his chest a bit. "Yeah, she's like, really old and stuff, too. But still hot. She turned me almost 50 years ago."

Cassie nodded in agreement. Only a little longer, and she'd have him where she wanted him. She heaped on a few well-worded compliments about himself and how lucky his Sire was to have him as a Childe. Then he asked if she wanted to meet her. She was living in Los Angeles at the moment, and she'd probably be thrilled. She may even grant her the "Dark Gift." Cassie nearly laughed at the choice of words, but smiled gratefully instead.

He paid the cheque, and he tossed her a motorcycle helmet. Oh god, I'm going to die, she thought. Still not at the direct hands of a vampire. She was lucky, in that respect, that she picked a dumb one. One who would risk exposure of their entire race so blatantly, so crudely, for the tiniest bit of fame, deserved to get his head handed to him on a platter. This would probably happen when his Sire found out that he had dragged a human to see her, one who knew all about them.

On the trip, she told him about her thesis, and the research she was doing for it. It was about the reconstitution of vampire blood, and how when a foreign blood was introduced into a person's system, if the donor blood had certain chemical properties to it, it would mutate the recipient blood to change into a new type altogether. This would occur through the splitting of the white cells in order to attack this foreign agent. They would not be destroyed, as they are with HIV, but instead mutated into the same chemical agent found in the donor blood, thus perpetrating the virus throughout the system, and granting it the ability to pass it along to others through the same means as the first exchange. The new mutated blood would also cause major organs to fail and become redundant, as the blood is self-supporting, and leads to enhanced features such as strength and speed. This, she postulated, was due to the restrictive result that the blood had on muscle tissues, causing them to become tighter and more compact. She had a feeling that Peter got about ten percent of what she said, but he nodded anyway. Good boy, she thought. Now take me home to mommy.

As they passed the Welcome to Los Angeles sign, she wondered if she had gotten in over her head. She had gotten blood samples from the vampires that she knew in Toronto, but they had been very supportive of her research, and her acquaintances for a long time before that. Now, she was riding on the back of the bike of a vampire she had known for four hours, heading towards what sounded like a rather old and probably powerful Sire, one that would probably twist her head clean off as soon as talk to her. Let's hope I can manage to get out of this alive, she thought.

He pulled into an alley beside what looked like a biker bar. "She's probably in here," he said. "This is like the type of place where she picked me up. Besides, I can, like, sense her close by."

They walked into the bar, and they looked around. He couldn't find sight of her, so they left. Cassie had an idea. "What does she look like, this Sire of yours?"

"She's really hot," he repeated. "Blonde hair, blue eyes, skinny, pretty big boobs… pretty classy, actually. It was kinda weird to see her in a rough bar like that."

"How about that place, down the street?" She pointed at a neon sign, displaying the name 'Liquide' coming out of a martini glass. It looked a lot higher-scale than the dive they just walked into. Before they went, she asked him for a blood sample. "For my research," she said, pulling out a syringe from her leather satchel. He cringed as she drew his blood. Imagine, a vampire afraid of needles, she tsked in her head. She stowed the syringe in a sunglasses case, and they walked down to Liquide.

The bar was classic contemporary, with nondescript electronica playing in the background. A suave-looking DJ was mixing in the corner. There were glass-topped pools built into the dance floor, with koi swimming lazily inside. There were very few sharp edges in the bar, the style preferring a flowing look to follow its water theme. The liquor flowed easily here too, as most of the patrons were rather relaxed and feeling amorous towards people they just met. Sitting on a stool by the bar, a blonde was sipping a strawberry daiquiri and chatting with the bartender.

Peter tapped her on the shoulder. "Yeah? Hi! What?" He cleared his throat, and she turned slightly in her seat. She took in his leather jacket, acidwash jeans, spiked hair, and the tiniest of mustard stains on his white t-shirt. "Yes? What do you want?"

"Harmony? It's me, Peter. I've come home, and I'd like you to meet someone."


	2. Mistake

**Blood Bonds**

by Sage Darkwoods

**Disclaimer:** The characters in this story that were created by Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy belong to them and them alone. No infringement is intended, and no profit is being made.

**Chapter 2: Mistake**

"And you are who again?" Harmony asked, swirling her daiquiri in its glass.

"It's Peter. You sired me in Sunnydale, remember? I was part of your gang. We were going to get rid of the Slayer."

Realization dawned in her sparkling blue eyes. "Oh yeah, oh my god! It's good to see you again!" She jumped up and hugged Peter. "So, how've you been?"

"Pretty good. I'm in a band now," he said, puffing out his chest. He reminded Cassie of a rooster.

Harmony smiled brightly, then noticed Cassie. "And who's your girlfriend?"

"I'm Cassie," she interjected and held out her hand. "I just met Peter tonight. He brought me to meet you, actually."

Harmony dusted off the seat beside her. "Come and sit, drink a while." She motioned for the bartender to bring two more daiquiris. The girls chatted for a bit. While Cassie was talking about her thesis, Harmony's eyes glazed over a few times, but she tried to look interested. "That's sort of like what Fred was in charge of," Harmony said, glad to contribute to the conversation. "She was all into the science stuff, too."

"What does she do now?"

"Not much of anything, since she's dead," Harmony replied airily. "Well, Fred isn't really Fred anymore, she's Illyria, who's like this god-being who's all blue and _so_ doesn't have a sense of humour. Or fashion sense," she added.

Cassie's head swam, trying to register all this. In fact, her head just swam in general. "How much alcohol is in this?" she wondered. She looked up at Harmony, whose blonde hair had taken on a soft golden glow.

"Just two ounces or so," said Peter, appearing close to her ear. "And something else added to the mix."

"Y-you've drugged me?" Cassie managed, her tongue starting to feel like cotton.

"Only enough that you won't fight back." Peter's voice started to fade away, then everything went black.

"You sure don't pick 'em light," Harmony huffed, one of Cassie's arms slung over her shoulder.

"Sorry," he puffed, supporting Cassie's other side. "She was cute, and I thought you'd appreciate a present."

"I do, dumbass, but you didn't have to drug her." Harmony glared at her progeny. "She would have come by herself, you know."

"How was I supposed to know?" Peter muttered, readjusting his hold on the girl.

"We'd better bring her back to my place before –"

"Before you get caught?" said a voice from the alley. A tall dark figure stepped out of the shadows, leather trench billowing slightly in the wind.

Harmony tried to smile. "Um, hey boss! Fancy seeing you here!"

Angel didn't smile back. "Harmony. What are you doing."

Harmony glanced at Peter, who looked very confused. "Well, she had _waaay_ too much to drink, and she's from out of town, so I figured –"

"You work for _Angel_?" Peter asked incredulously.

"Yeah, but –"

"The vampire with a soul? The one who _kills_ our kind!"

"Only sometimes!" Harmony replied indignantly. "Besides, he's head of Wolfram & Hart now. He's got a lot of power."

"I thought you were cool," Peter pouted. "But you're just a sellout, just working for the man." He dropped his hold on Cassie, who slumped against Harmony, who staggered under the extra weight. Angel advanced on them.

"He did it!" Harmony cried. "He brought her here, and we were just talking, us girls, like girls do, and drinking a little, and he _drugged_ her! It's all his fault, Angel!" Never let it be said that Harmony can't cover her own ass.

Cassie's eyes fluttered open. She could vaguely make out a tall man in black flinging something at Peter, and Peter turning to dust. Then she was hoisted over the tall man's shoulder, and carried off somewhere. She blacked out again. Somewhere today, she had made a mistake.


	3. Trust

**Blood Bonds**

by Sage Darkwoods

**Disclaimer:** The characters in this story that were created by Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy belong to them and them alone. No infringement is intended, and no profit is being made.

**Chapter 3: Trust**

"Hey Cassie? You awake yet? _Helloooo_?"

Cassie opened her eyes slowly. Harmony was standing over her, smiling that bright smile of hers. Cassie had a feeling that was the brightest part about the blonde. She sat up, and realized that was a bad idea. She said something intelligent like "ugghh mmph," and slumped back against the pillows.

"You've had a really rough night," Harmony continued, looking concerned. "You want some water?"

Cassie gave a minute nod and sat up slowly. She took in her surroundings. She was in what appeared to be a hospital bed, in a room with mint green walls and paintings of sunflowers and fruit. She looked down at her clothes. Wait, not _her_ clothes. She was wearing a light pink frilly babydoll nightgown. Light pink. Frilly. "I'm in hell," she groaned.

"No you're not, silly," Harmony assured her. "You're at Wolfram & Hart, Attorneys at Law."

"Might as well be hell," Cassie mumbled, taking the proffered glass.

"You don't know how right you are, luv," said a voice from the corner. A blond man with striking cheekbones blew a stream of smoke from his cigarette.

"Spike!" Harmony yelled. "This is the med centre! You can't smoke in here!" She made a big show of fanning the air.

"Right then, just put it out." He threw the cigarette down on the tiles and stomped it out with his boot. Harmony made a face, and turned back to Cassie. "That's Spike," she explained. "He's kinda rude like that."

"No ruder than your loverboy, Harm," he countered. "Imagine, having to drug an innocent bird like her just to get a little neck!"

"Alright, I get it!" Harmony shouted. "Peter was a bit of a mistake, alright? I mean, he was pretty stupid."

"That, coming from you?" Spike scoffed. "He must have been a right idiot!"

"If you two are going to fight," Cassie interjected, "could you please do it quietly?" She held the cool water glass to her forehead. Her first thought was right: she was in hell.

A nurse came in the room, and ushered her two visitors out. As she administered and generally fussed over her, it left Cassie to her thoughts. She had gotten in a bit over her head. She had a tendency to be too trusting, and more than a little headstrong. She was reminded of a line from a movie she watched recently. It was an espionage movie – _The Italian Job_. Donald Sutherland's character had a favourite phrase: "I trust everyone. It's the devil inside them I don't trust." This time, Cassie had forgotten that last part. This was especially dangerous, since for vampires there was a literal demon inside them. She sighed audibly, and the nurse looked concerned. She gave her a small smile. "Long day."

"Long night," corrected the nurse, writing down Cassie's temperature on her clipboard. "It's nearly noon. You slept a bit fitfully, but that's to be expected after your ordeal. I expect you'll be right as rain in no time. For now, take these." She handed her a small paper cup with two pills in them. Cassie looked at it warily. "It's aspirin. Sometimes the oldest and most trusted methods are still the best." She put the clipboard down and walked out, shutting the door behind her.

Trust. There's that word again, Cassie thought. Her thoughts turned to Aunt Natalie's softly admonishing voice: "You trust too much, Cass." Thinking of Natalie made her smile.

Dr. Natalie Lambert was a coroner for Toronto. She often worked very closely with the homicide division, and had developed interesting relationships in that department. One of these relationships was with Detective Nick Knight, a sandy-haired, often scruffy-looking man who only worked the night shift.

Cassie's mother was an old university friend of Natalie's. While in their first year, Laura Haynes became pregnant, and quickly got married to James Harvey. They divorced a year later. The two women chose different scientific paths: Natalie chose medicine, and Laura chose psychiatry. Natalie took an interest in forensics, and eventually got appointed to the position of coroner. Laura got her doctorate, and became a well-respected psychiatrist. The women stayed close, and Natalie came around to visit often. Cassie got into the habit of calling her Aunt Nat.

One day a case crossed the desk of Nick Knight: the suspected suicide of a well-known psychiatrist. They found Laura in a tub, wrists slit. Natalie had a difficult time believing it was a suicide, even though the suicide note was addressed to her. She searched for clues in her diary. She came up with no explanation. Cassie went and visited Natalie at her place a few nights after her mother died, wanting some sort of explanation, or comfort, or even an excuse. What she found was nothing like she expected.

Natalie was sprawled on the ground, with Detective Knight crouching over her. He bared his teeth at a white-haired man who was seething in the corner, cursing in French. A broken cane was tossed on the ground between them. The white-haired man then jumped out the window. Cassie was unable to say anything more than a high-pitched squeak, and fainted.

When she awoke in the hospital, Nick found he had a lot of explaining to do. Natalie was rushed to Sunnybrook Hospital in the quickest way possible: by flight. She wasn't airlifted by helicopter; Nick picked her up and _flew_. They managed to save her, barely. She flatlined once. Luckily, the surgeons pumped some blood into her system before her veins collapsed, and jumpstarted her heart. She was in intensive care, but the doctors had no doubt she would make a full recovery. Nick told Cassie everything: he was an 800-year old vampire, and the white-haired man was his sire, Lacroix, who was easily pushing 2000. He drank blood, but only cattle from the butcher. He was looking to redeem his humanity. Then, he had Cassie look into his eyes, and he told her to _Forget_.

"What the hell are you talking about?" was her reply. Nick repeated himself in a far-away echoey voice. She blinked, and squinted at him. "Are you trying to hypnotize me?"

"Dammit, another resistor," he muttered. At seventeen, Cassie was a lot smarter than people gave her credit for. She knew there was something odd about Detective Knight. His permanent night shift status, his "allergy" to sunlight, his aversion to food of any sort… When Cassie was staying at Natalie's one night, he had turned down her lemon meringue pie. NOBODY turned down Cassie's lemon meringue pie. The crust was buttery and perfectly melt-in-your-mouth flaky, and the meringue was like biting into a cloud. She knew something had to be wrong.

Nicholas Knight was a vampire. Natalie was trying, unsuccessfully, to "cure" him. This simple realization helped shape Cassie's future, and gave her the extra shove she needed to enrol in McMaster's Biology program. If vampirism was a disease, as Aunt Nat hypothesized, then there had to be a cure. Cassie just needed to figure out the hows and whys of vampires.

After completing her Bachelor of Science in Biochemistry, she continued with her Master's. She kept working on her theories and lab experiments, using Nick as her own personal guinea pig. She obtained the blood of two other vampires (Nick wouldn't say who they were), and compared DNA strands and chemical compositions. Her colleagues and mentor thought she was crazy, and her mentor threatened to quit every other day. Vampires don't exist, they said. You're wasting your time and our grant money. Eventually the grant was revoked, but Cassie continued her research on a smaller scale in the coroner's office.

In order to broaden her research, she had to contact a professor out in California, who was doing similar work in blood analysis. When Nick heard this, he practically forbade her to leave.

"The vampires out there are different than me," he said. "They're… baser. They are closer to animals, to _demons_ than you know. They don't have souls."

Cassie nodded, but mentally dismissed it. Nick, once a knight in the Crusades, was predisposed to religious hyperbole, and used it at least once a week. Everything was a battle between Good and Evil, Angels and Demons, a fight for the Divine, to Redeem his Immortal Soul. Cassie tended to gloss over when he started. He sometimes said the same speech about his "clients" at the station. He was, after all, in the homicide division. The pressure of the job gets to all of them after a while, even 800-year-old vampires.

He did, however, warn her about the physical differences between his line of vampires and the ones that seemed to be predominant in Southern California. "Sewer vampires" was his term for describing them, as it was rumoured that an ancient Master lived in the sewers below a town. They had ridges on their foreheads when they showed their vampiric nature. "Like Klingons?" Cassie asked. Nick nodded, fairly familiar with _Star Trek_. Afternoons tended to get boring when one was wide awake and couldn't venture outside in the burning sun.

Natalie was beside herself when she found out about Cassie's plan. She begged and pleaded with her not to go. She tried bribing her with a big-screen TV, a new car, anything she could think of. She knew she was grasping at straws, because she knew the determination Cassie had. It was the same determination that got her through medical school and gave her the courage to do her job as a coroner every night. She kissed Aunt Nat on the cheek and assured her she would be careful. "I trust you," Natalie said as Cassie stepped through the departure gates.

Cassie lied. She wasn't careful. Instead, she had gone against every bit of advice Nick and Aunt Nat had given her, and instead wound up in the med centre of a law firm of all places, because she went for a ride with a vampire she knew for only a few hours.

Nat trusted her to do the right thing. From now on, she was going to try.


	4. Meetings

**Blood Bonds**

by Sage Darkwoods

**Disclaimer:** The characters in this story that were created by Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy belong to them and them alone. No infringement is intended, and no profit is being made.

Chapter 4: Meetings 

When Cassie finally got up, it was 6PM. The November sun was just setting in the LA skyline. Cassie found her clothes at the end of her bed, freshly washed and folded. She changed quickly, if for nothing else than ridding herself of the frilly pink negligee.

Tugging at the hem of her slightly short t-shirt, she marvelled at the fact she was able to wear it at this time of year. Being from Toronto, in Canada, it could be said she came from the land of the ice and snow. They had already had their first snowfall of the season; a drizzly wet affair that turned quickly to sleet on the busy streets. It was about 20 degrees Celsius here. Doing some quick mental math, that made it about 68 Farenheit. Americans and their Imperial system, she thought, shaking her head.

She walked down the hallway, looking for… she didn't quite know. She had met only three people here so far, one of who tried to carry her off as a snack. Harmony did seem nice enough, and she did try to get her back in one piece. At least she put the blame where blame was due: on Peter. Cassie mentally smacked herself for her stupidity. She toddled into a potentially deadly situation, and convinced herself it was a smart, safe thing to do.

Then Cassie looked up and realized she may have done the same thing again. She had wandered into the lobby, and saw all sorts of… things she couldn't believe she was seeing. There were three cloaked grey-skinned creatures, speaking in a series of clicks and trills. A woman with blue scaly skin glided by, not seeming to touch the ground. There were many women and men in business suits, speaking in languages that she wasn't sure were human. Harmony, sitting behind the reception desk, was talking animatedly to a green-skinned man wearing a nicely tailored red suit.

"So I told him, 'Justin, baby, it's not a problem! Lance's acting career takes off? We'll make it flop at the box office. Joey's Broadway show? Closes in a week. You can have any woman you want.' How do you think he got Cameron?"

"That is so cool! I can't beLEEEVE you met Justin!" she squealed. She caught sight of Cassie and waved her over.

"Cassie, this is Lorne. He's head of the entertainment division here."

Cassie smiled weakly, just now noticing that his eyes and horns matched the exact colour of his suit.

"Glad to see you're up and moving, kitten. We were worried about you." Lorne smiled genially. His outer appearance, as freaky and slightly garish as it was, did not quite match the smiling man in front of her.

"It's a good thing the boss showed up when he did," Harmony said.

"Angel showed up and caught ya, eh honeycake?"

"Hey, I was trying to help her. Sort of," the blonde pouted.

"Let me get this straight," Cassie interjected. "Harmony, you're a vampire." The blonde nodded. "And Lorne, you're a…"

"Demon," he provided. "Pylean, to be exact."

"And I was saved by an angel?"

"Oh, not _an_ angel," Harmony said, waving her hands. "Just 'Angel.' He's a vampire, too."

"He's more like a big Mr. Cranky Fangs today," Lorne muttered. "Seems last night's adventure got his knickers in a twist."

"Maybe I should go explain myself," Cassie said uncertainly.

"I'll take you up, kitten."

Lorne led her upstairs to a large office and knocked on the door. They heard an affirmative grunt on the other side. He pushed open the door as quietly as he could, but of course it creaked ominously. "Angel, um, Miss Harvey is here to see you."

A dark-clad figure at the front of the office grunted in response.

Lorne patted Cassie's arm affectionately, and gave her a look of… pity? No, sympathy. This type of thing may happen often around here.

Cassie approached the mahogany desk carefully. The entire office was furnished in the dark wood, including the wall panels, with gilded accents on the desk and end tables. Deep red armchairs sat in front of the desk. The colours were mostly dark. The room matched the clothing and apparently the mood of the man staring at the wall behind the desk.

"Mr. Angel? My name is Cassie Harvey, and I would like to thank you for –"

"Saving your ass last night?" he said roughly, turning to face her. "Do you have any idea of the danger you were in? Do you know what you were with?"

"Yes. Vampires. Two of them. One who is under your employ."

"And you still stuck around?" Angel stepped towards her. "Vampires are dangerous creatures, and I'm frankly surprised you're still alive. Do you know how stupid a move that was on your part?"

Cassie was about to throw a sarcastic remark about being saved by one of those 'dangerous creatures,' when she stopped herself. Instead, her lower lip began to quiver, and tears welled up in her eyes.

"I- I'm so so sorry!" she wailed. "I thought he was good, and nice! I mean, not all vampires could be dangerous! It has to be a stereotype, right? I just thought he was one of the good ones!" she sniffled.

Angel stepped forward a bit. "Not all of them are bad," he started. "_He_ was. You need to be careful. It's not Canada here. Not everyone is as calm and laid-back as they are in Toronto."

Cassie blinked up at him. "I'm glad you came to save me." She sank into one of the armchairs and folded herself into a ball. "It's been really tough these last few years. I guess I just wanted to believe in something good again." He came to stand beside the chair and put his hand on the headrest. "I mean, with my mom dying and all, and the way she went…" Cassie shuddered.

"Was it vampires?"

She shook her head. "Suicide. Slit her wrists. My mom's friend – practically my aunt – she, she left her journals and the note – it was addressed to her."

Angel's face darkened. "So you need help. Why are you here in L.A?"

Cassie told him a bit about her thesis and what she was trying to accomplish through her blood analyses. He listened attentively, nodding at appropriate places. Then he offered her the use of the lab at Wolfram & Hart, with what he was told was top-of-the-line equipment. She smiled and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. He attempted a small smile in return. He said that Lorne would show her to a room where she can keep her things. She started to protest that she had a hotel room, but he insisted she move her things over to the firm, and would pay for the room. "It's safer here."

"Thanks, Angel, for everything," Cassie said, and walked out of the office.

"Thanks Angel, for being my dark knight in shining leather," mimicked a falsetto voice. Cassie turned to see Spike leaning against the wall and smirking at her.

"Do you make it a habit to lurk in shadows?" Cassie asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I thought girls liked a man of the shadows," Spike said, pushing away from the wall. "Least, you seem to. I thought you were going to bat your eyelashes right off."

"What?" she laughed, and started to walk away. "You're kidding, right?"

"Nope. You got a thing for the Big Man. Can see it plain on your face."

"Then you're not looking hard enough," she replied lightly, and continued walking down the hallway. "Have you seen Lorne?"

Spike cut in front of her. "Then what was that sob story about, then? Was any of it even true?"

"Every word of it." Cassie stared him coldly in the face. "And I'd appreciate it if you just got out of my way. I need to find Lorne."

"Got a thing for the green guy too, eh?"

"God! What is with you?" Cassie said, exasperated. "Can you think of something else besides speculating about which non-human I want to bang?"

"So it's true?" he grinned.

"If you must know, I don't date vampires. Especially ones like Angel." She leaned over the railing and looked down at the lawyers and secretaries and demons milling about the lobby.

"What do you mean, ones like him?"

"Oh, you know, the brooding hero type," she explained. "The ones that are so tragic they can barely function. They swoop in and save the damsel in distress, not for the glory, or even for possible nookie, but because 'it's the right thing to do'."

Spike looked amused. "You know a lot of these?"

"One," she said, sighing. "My aunt Natalie is practically married to him. So tragic it's pathetic."

Spike cocked his head, a smile spreading over his face. "Let's go get a drink."

"To clarify, this is an alcoholic drink."

"Yes. Unless you'd prefer me to snack on you," he said, waggling his eyebrows. "Seems you go in for that."

Cassie rolled her eyes. "I'm buying. I don't want you getting ideas from Peter."

"That sodding idiot?" he scoffed. "I could have you if I wanted, luv, and I don't need date rape drugs like that deficient moron."

Grinning, they walked out into the night, and headed towards Liquide.


	5. Drinks

**Blood Bonds**

by Sage Darkwoods

**Disclaimer:** The characters in this story that were created by Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy belong to them and them alone. No infringement is intended, and no profit is being made.

**Author's Note:** Special thanks to Arkaidy, who kicked my butt into gear yet again over much coffee and really good sandwiches.

**Chapter 5: Drinks**

Spike and Cassie had settled into a booth in Liquide, and Cassie had gone to the bar herself to get the drinks. Coming back with a Cape Codder and a lowball of Jack Daniels, she found Spike had tossed his jacket over to her side of the booth, and had stretched out like a cat, a contented look on his face. She raised an eyebrow at this, and he replied that he had longer legs, so it was only fair.

She took a moment to look around the bar. The last time she was there, she was conscious for all of five minutes. The bar itself had a stainless steel countertop, and curved around in a free-flow manner. There were matching round steel tables with tall stools, sprouting up here and there like mushrooms across the floor. The walls were lined with high-backed booths, like the one Spike and herself were sitting in, also with curved edges. Near the back of the room a dj was spinning a remix of Papercut by Linkin Park. The music wasn't too loud, so it was possible to hold a conversation without shouting. Some couples and a few lone dancers were gyrating to the music on a plexiglass floor. Koi were swimming beneath it. The dj was running an impressive light show, with blue and white lights reflecting off the steel and chrome accents of the room. The effect created was that of being underwater, which gave credit to its name. Cassie felt slightly underdressed in her Rolling Stones concert shirt and blue jeans. _At least I have company in that department_, she thought, glancing at the lounging Spike. Besides the black leather duster, he sported a tight black t-shirt and black jeans.

"So, that whole crying bit was an act?" he asked, taking the drink.

"You saw that?" Cassie winced at the question. "Your kind can see through walls?"

"'Our kind' can see through windows," he corrected. "You didn't notice the huge pane of glass along the one wall?"

"They're not soundproof either, I take it."

"Not a lick," he answered, grinning. "So, was it?"

"A little, yeah," she admitted. "I mean, everything was true, but I'm not horribly broken up about it. I _was_, but that was almost eight years ago. I've learned to cope with it, and to look forward."

"Living in the past isn't the best way to live," Spike agreed, and sipped his whiskey.

Cassie stared at him. "Oh, not you, too."

"Not me what?"

"You're having a flashback, aren't you?" she asked, pointing a finger at him. "You have that faraway look in you eyes, like you're remembering a tragic event, or a lost love."

"I do not!"

"You do!" she crowed. "I thought it was just Nick. He gets those all the time. Does Angel do this too? And Harmony?"

Spike took another swig of the whiskey, letting it roll across his tongue before he would answer. "Angel is Broody Boy most of the time," he said. "He thinks about the people he's killed, his bloody curse, the people he wants to save, the fact that he's head of an evil law firm… whatever he thinks about, it's usually dark. Wouldn't want to go into his head, really. So bloody dark you'd trip over something. Now Harmony," he continued, smirking, "She's not exactly what I would call a thinker."

"I figured that," Cassie said, smirking. "But she must think of something. A few hundred years has got to have some memories attached to it."

"Hundred – What makes you think that?"

"Peter told me he was turned fifty years ago, and that Harmony was really old."

Spike nearly spit out his drink, he was laughing so hard. "Harmony has enough memories to remember her high school prom! Fifty sodding years! He was feeding you a line to get into your pants, luv!"

She chuckled. "If he thought fifty years was enough to impress me, he's stupider than I gave him credit for."

Spike considered this a moment. "How old is Nick?"

"Well, from the stories I've heard, and heard ad nauseam I dare add, he's about 800 years old. Doing the math… 776 this year."

"Cor… No kidding? I thought Angel was an old codger. This Nick must be rife with tragic moments."

"Constant flashbacks," she said, nodding. "I often wonder if he hears me sometimes when I talk about my work."

"To tell the truth, luv, I'm not so sure it's always flashbacks at that point. Not every guy gets their jollies hearing about science stuff." He drank the rest of the contents of the glass. "Another round? We'll put it on the company tab."

She nodded. "That's a generous boss you have."

"He doesn't know he's paying yet." Spike waved down a server, who came back quickly with their order. The perky brunette giggled and lingered longer than a server should.

"And you admonished me about my eyelash batting."

"Can't blame the poor girl. She likes what she sees." Spike grinned and put his hands behind his head, leaning back.

Cassie shook her head. "God, you're cocky."

"Cocky would be the operative word," he leered.

"Do you ever think about anything else but sex?" Cassie asked, sipping her drink.

The blond put on a pensive face and pretended to ponder. "Yes. I think about booze."

Cassie rolled her eyes and finished off her first drink. In the past twenty-four hours, she had been in the company of four vampires and a demon, had been in possible mortal peril once, and had been in the hospital ward of an "evil" law firm. Aunt Nat was going to kill her, unless something or someone here did it first. She looked across the table at her drinking partner.

"Why did you bring me out?"

Spike lit a cigarette and looked over his cupped hands at her. The acrid smell of the burning sulphur hit her nose quickly, then was gone. "Why not? Seemed a good idea. It's no fun being cooped up in a law firm with a bunch of walking stiffs – in some cases, literally."

Cassie stifled a giggle. "Are you one of those walking stiffs?" she said, knowing full well he'll take the joke.

"Only when I'm around good-looking women like you," he replied, giving her a half smile. He took the joke. "Why are you here?"

"I got sick of wandering around that building," she admitted. "Well, there were places I wanted to look in, but either the door was locked or otherwise barred. I couldn't get anywhere besides the med ward, the lobby and the hallways in between."

"Magical wards," Spike explained, taking another puff. "Secrets all over the place. Only those with either the password or a specific bloody fingerprint can get in. Nothing useful, either, most of the time." He took a swig of his jack. "So, don't bother about snooping around, won't get you anywhere." He narrowed his eyes a bit and continued. "To be truthful luv, I'm not sure I can trust you."

"_You_ can't trust _me_?" Cassie scoffed. "I think it's more likely the other way around."

"Think so?"

"Yeah. You're a vampire. You took me out drinking, and after knowing what happened the last time I did this, you're hoping I'll fall for the same trick twice."

"Listen, missy," he started, leaning forward in his seat and pointing his cigarette at her. "I invited you out because you were bored out of your tree, and I'm trying to figure out your game. S'your fault if you're daft enough to come along." He flagged down the waitress for another round.

"I'm not having anymore, thanks," Cassie said frostily.

"Then I'll drink yours, too," he retorted. "I need more alcohol in my system to deal with this conversation."

"Gee, thanks."

"Not what I meant, duck," Spike sighed. "Thing is, I don't trust scientist types. Never have."

"Not even, what's her name again? Fred?"

"Don't you mention her name so flip like that," he snarled, causing Cassie to wince. "You never knew her. Got no right." Obviously this was still a touchy subject. "I don't trust scientists," he repeated. "They poke their noses in where they don't belong, prodding at things they shouldn't and making a mess of it. And you show up with your fancy thesis and vials full of blood, and swivel your hips into the damn lab by giving Angel those big brown eyes of yours, and next you'll be poking at all our brains! Well I won't be a soddin' guinea pig again!" With that last shout, he stood up and stormed to the bar.

Cassie sat back, bewildered at what just transpired. Spike had been subjected to scientific testing before, probably against his will judging by the outburst. Now she just felt badly about the whole thing. He had been nice enough to take her out, and not make her lunch (so far), and she had poked at his brain, so to speak, until he blew up. To think, she couldn't manage to hold a conversation without something going wrong. She needed to make amends with the pissed off vampire, before he decided to fix it in a way she probably wouldn't like.

She walked up to the bar, where he was busy downing tequila shots. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable," she started tentatively. "I'll tell you exactly why I'm here, and what I'm doing. Maybe that will help you trust me, or at least not hate me."

"Couldn't hate you, duck," he grunted. "Not yet anyway. You haven't tried to turn me into a supersoldier puppy dog."

Cassie blinked at that, but let it slide. If he wanted to elaborate, he would. Instead, he swallowed another shot. She told him about the UCLA professor, and why she wanted a cure for vampirism. To do this, she needed samples of vampire blood. "Long story short, I really needed a lab, and quick. That blood in the vial is liable to spoil, if it hasn't already."

"Needn't worry about that one, luv. It broke." Another shot downed.

"How? Did I drop my bag when I was passed out?"

"Not quite. I was searching through that bag – for ID – when Harm startled me and I dropped it. Silly git of a woman." Spike paused long enough in his drinking to pull a battered pack of cigarettes out of his back jeans pocket. Cassie felt her eyes linger a bit too long on his backside, and averted her eyes a little too late. Spike smirked, catching the glance. "Like what you see, do you?"

"You're incorrigible," she sighed, and took a seat in the vacant stool next to him. She glanced at the dozen or so empty shot glasses scattered in front of him. "Where's the salt shaker?"

He blinked. "I thought you weren't drinking anymore."

"I changed my mind," she said, shrugging. "Besides, this is tequila. It's not so much drinking as pouring liquid fire down your throat. So where's the salt?"

He raised a scarred eyebrow and passed her the shaker. Cassie made a mental note to ask him where he got the scar later. "I like a woman who can recognize good booze." He handed her a shot glass filled with the amber liquor. "What shall we toast to?"

Cassie thought a moment, then remembered back to her undergrad days, and the campus pub. "To evil," she said, raising the glass.

"Very well, to evil." Cassie had forgotten exactly how much tequila burned on the way down. Spike chuckled as she choked a bit. "I thought you could handle this."

"Didn't say I could," she corrected. "Are you coming back to the booth, or will you be staying here working on getting a hangover?"

"Gimme a minute," he said, signalling the bartender. She left him at the bar, and took the opportunity to use the ladies' room. It was nice in there, too, with the décor meshing with the rest of the bar. When she returned, Spike had resumed lounging, this time with a half dozen shots and another glass of whiskey. "Just in time, before I make these soldiers disappear," he greeted her, holding out a glass.

"What's this?" she said as she took it.

"Tequila sunrise," he replied smirking. "I like the irony. You'll like the tequila." She sniffed it gingerly. "Not going to drug you, pet," he said. "If I wanted to eat you, I'd have done it by now."

"Well, that's…decent." She took a sip. He was right. It was good. A thought struck her. "How long have you and Angel known each other?"

"Since London, 1880," he said, taking a last drag of his cigarette and stubbing it out in the chrome ashtray. "He was more fun then. Scourge of Europe and the like. He also had this Irish accent. He used to lure in the pretties with his charm, and drink them dry before they could even think. We'd take entire families, him and me and Dru and Darla. Those were the good times." The look in his eyes was wistful, as though he was remembering a Sunday picnic instead of wholesale slaughter.

Cassie wondered briefly whether she might have been better off with Peter. He was just stupid. This guy was a cold-blooded serial killer. Way to pick 'em, Acacia, she chided herself. She was startled out of her thoughts by Spike asking her about Nick.

"Where to begin," she sighed. "He's old, like I told you. He's originally French, I think. He had a 'family,' like you did. Jeanette and LaCroix aren't what I'd call family, though…"

"Hang on a tick," Spike interrupted, shot glass halfway to his mouth. "LaCroix? Lucius?"

"Lucien now, yeah. Why, do you know him?"

"Come on! Who hasn't heard of Lucius? He's one of the oldest ones! And the oldest one who hasn't gone all batty and ugly like the others." Spike chuckled. "Met him once, in Florence in the early 1900s. He was doing a poetry reading. He was great. I got shivers listening to him read Baudelaire."

Cassie raised an eyebrow. "Shivers? Really?"

"Well, yeah." He blinked. "Don't think I'm a bleeding ponce; he's good, alright?" She started to giggle. "Stop bloody laughing! I'm not a sodding faggot!" This statement only aggravated the situation, and Cassie laughed harder. "Fine, whatever," he grumbled, throwing his hands in the air. "Think what you want; a bloke can have some culture in his life."

"What else did you think of him?" Cassie asked after she managed to calm herself.

"He has great hair for a sadistic know-it-all ponce," Spike replied, glowering. "Bloody git tried to tell me that I had no style, no panache in killing. Showed him, then."

"How?" Cassie's interest was piqued.

"That's about the time I started to torture my victims, with railroad spikes. That's how I got my name, really."

Cassie gulped. Just what she needed to hear. "S-so he agreed with your… methods, afterwards?"

"Actually, he called me an artless buffoon and left soon after with some dark-haired French woman," he grumbled. "Should've stuck around and seen what I wanted to do, which was take my railroad spike and shove it up his ass."

She grinned. "Good. Finally someone else who hates LaCroix as much as me."

It was his turn to raise an eyebrow. "Did he call you an artless buffoon, too?"

"No; he threatened to kill me on more than one occasion, as well as calling me and Aunt Nat a slew of names, and saying our efforts are fruitless." She took another sip of the drink. So far, no passing out or blurred vision.

"I hate to agree with him, but he may have a point." Spike picked up another shot. "I _really_ hate to agree with the git."

"Tell you what," Cassie offered. "Let's not talk about that jerkwad anymore. It's ruining my buzz. Let's just have fun."

"I like your way of thinking." He slammed back the shot. "I say, we both get right sloshed on old bossman's tab. It's just a short stumble back to the office, anyway."

They toasted to evil once more, and drank until just before the bar closed. Spike had considerably more than her; it was easier, since he had that whole vampire healing factor going for him. Cassie, however, was shorter and a girl, so less than a quarter of what Spike drank was enough to get her stumbling drunk. As Spike promised, it was a short stumble, which seemed longer since Cassie was no longer capable of walking in a straight line. Spike had slung an arm around her waist to keep her going. They managed to go through the revolving doors on the third time around. The elevator was a treat as well; the motion made butterflies dance in Cassie's stomach, and she had a feeling they wanted out. He helped her back to the med centre, since that's the closest thing she had to a room there.

"Thanks for a fun time," she said, sitting carefully at the edge of the bed. Her stomach was still jumping, and her head swimming. "I haven't had that much to drink since my second year at university, after exams."

"You looked like you needed it," he said, words slurring slightly. "'Sides, you're cute, and I don't like to drink alone."

"That was almost a compliment," she chided, giggling. "A girl could get her head turned like that."

"Anytime you wanna get out, let me know," he said, leering. "You know, out of the building, out of your clothes…"

Cassie rolled her eyes. "You've had too much to drink. So have I. Goodnight, Spike."

"Night, Cass." He closed the door quietly behind him, leaving Cassie to her thoughts. He had been hitting on her all night. How much of that had been serious, and how much was him flirting for the sake of something to do? Was he flirting to get her guard to drop?

"_Dammit_," she said aloud as she started to undress. "He was probably playing me. As usual, Miss Acacia Harvey, you're an idiot." She looked for her pyjamas, and then remembered the rest of her clothes were still back at the hotel. She swore again as she saw the frilly pink nightie laid out carefully on the bed. She put it on, rather than remain naked in a strange building with stranger inhabitants and possibly security cameras. A few minutes after her head hit the pillow, she drifted to sleep, filled with dreams of a certain platinum-haired vampire with amazing blue eyes.


	6. Daylight

**Blood Bonds **

by Sage Darkwoods

**Disclaimer:** The characters in this story that were created by Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy belong to them and them alone. No infringement is intended, and no profit is being made.

**Author's Note**: The nurse in the chapter is a tribute to my dear high school music teacher. She also tended to jump to conclusions and be mildly frazzled, especially about one week before the opening of the musical. The medical scenes I attribute to an ever-so-fun physical I had recently. Spike's line about Canada is Bjork-inspired. This chapter finally sees more of the Forever Knight characters. Also in this chapter: Cassie's in trouble, and insults someone. Again.

* * *

**Chapter 6: Daylight**

The sun streamed through the small window in the med centre, casting sharp shadows against the pristine walls. Birds were chirping out a lovely song to greet the new day. Life in Los Angeles seemed wonderful.

Cassie was too busy throwing up to notice all this.

She eventually pried her cheek off the cool surface of the toilet bowl seat. This was not how she envisioned her day starting. She would have preferred waking up next to a hot guy and going for breakfast with him. The thought of food made her stomach roil again. It settled, and she half-stood, half-crawled back to her bed, where she covered her head with the sheets and tried to shut out the cheery brightness of the world. It's as though L.A. turned into a Technicolor cartoon with the tweeting birds and smiling sunshine.

The minute the sheets were over her head, someone knocked at the door. "Go away," she mumbled, but whoever it was took it as an invitation to enter. It was the nurse from the day before, coming in with her chart to check on her. One look at her pale and clammy face sent her running from the room.

The nurse, D. Martin according to the nametag, came back with a tray full of instruments and two men in labcoats in tow. "Don't worry about a thing, hun, we'll figure out what he did to you."

"Wha–" she started to protest, but D. Martin shoved a thermometer under her tongue.

"Just keep still," the blonde woman advised, checking Cassie's pulse at the wrist and keeping time with her watch. She called various numbers to one of the lab guys, who scribbled them diligently on his clipboard. The other lab guy was busy attaching a blood pressure monitor to her arm, and began pumping the little bulb at the end to inflate it.

Spike sauntered in then, swiftly followed by a tall man in glasses. He raised his scarred eyebrow when he saw the perplexed look on Cassie's face. "You look dreadful," he said instead, the corner of his mouth twitching.

"She's having a delayed reaction to the drug from yesterday," the nurse replied, a bit frazzled. She fitted a stethoscope in her ears and began listening to her heartbeat. "We think we're close to isolating the agent that caused her to react like this."

"Oh, I can tell you what it is," Spike said, moving further into the room. The bespectacled man followed, curiosity written on his face. "It's a mystical brew created from the root of the agave plant." The man in glasses snickered. "Men, especially Mexicans, have been using it for centuries to make the women they want susceptible to them. They even get intoxicated themselves on it."

The lab flunkies were writing furiously on their clipboards. "Please tell us the name of this mystical brew!" one nearly shouted he was so excited.

"It's tequila," interjected the man in glasses. "I don't think you need the IV hookup for a hangover, Donna," he chided.

Donna Martin looked shame-faced, and started to gather her instruments, slamming them back on the metal tray. She nodded without looking up at the two labcoats and they left quickly.

Spike sniggered. "How are you really doing, duck? You drank a lot last night."

"Less than you," she countered, sitting up slowly in bed. "But you have that great healing factor thing. Damn vampires and their liquor tolerance." She tried to fix her shoulder-length auburn hair as much as she could. There were, after all, men in the room. Granted, men who knew she'd just finished throwing up, but cute men nonetheless.

The man in glasses _ahemed_ and looked at Spike pointedly. "Oh, right. Cassie, this ponce here is Wesley Wyndham-Price. Nancy, this is Cassie Harvey, slightly hungover."

He smiled and nodded at her, pointedly ignoring Spike's slam. "It's a pleasure, Miss Harvey." He glanced over at Spike. "I take it Spike took you out last night?"

"Yeah, he got me rip-roarin' drunk, too." She managed a weak smile. If she tried to giggle, even a bit, her stomach would protest the movement.

"And you thought that… wise?" he prodded.

"No, actually, it was damn stupid," she retorted a bit too forcefully. "But I'm a big girl now, and if it's my time to get brutally murdered, then it's my time."

"Ah. I see." He cast his gaze to his shoes. "I, ah, have things to attend to in Ancient Artefacts. Nice to meet you, Miss Harvey." He closed the door quietly behind him.

Cassie sighed and buried her head in her hands. She just tried to bite the head off a guy she barely knew. Again. She remembered something her ex-boyfriend said a while ago: 'Each time I go on vacation, I get instantly stupid. Like, my IQ drops a good twenty points.' She was beginning to wonder whether the same thing was happening to her.

Cassie sat forward and hugged her blanket-covered knees. "That's another apology I have to make."

"How Canadian of you," Spike said, sinking into the armchair on the other side of the nightstand. He glanced at her, and his gaze traveled the length of her body. "Borrowing clothes from Harmony? I thought you had better taste than that."

She looked down and realized the blankets had slipped, and most of her torso and the bare skin of her thigh were left revealed. She quickly rearranged the blankets while Spike chuckled. "Do you enjoy having fun at my expense?"

"You make it rather easy, luv," he replied, still chuckling.

She cocked her head to one side. "Why are you here?"

"Well," he began. "I came to see what the fuss was about. Donna went running to the lab to retrieve her pet monkeys. I asked what was up and she shrieked out that there was a problem with 'the patient'. I naturally assumed it was you. I was right." He leaned back in the chair and stretched his long limbs in front of him, a smug smile on his face.

She shook her head, then winced at the pain it brought. "While you were busy gloating, did you manage to bring aspirin with you?" He tossed her a bottle, and she mumbled her thanks. "What are you doing today?"

"Oh, the usual." He stretched luxuriously again, and began counting on his fingers. "Annoying Angel, moving around things people need, bugging Nancy, calling him assorted other poncy names, beating on the know-it-all-powerful Smurf, and being watched like a lab rat while I get pummelled. Sounds like a full day to me."

She blinked, only comprehending about half of that. "Well, when you get a chance, let me know if you're up for anything."

"Anything?" he asked, and waggled his eyebrows.

"I'll rephrase," she amended, mentally cursing herself for walking right into that one. "If you are interested in showing me the good parts of the city, the safer parts, and the parts where I can get a good cheeseburger."

He nodded, and said he'll let her know, and walked out. She dressed in her old clothes, and made the decision to get back to her hotel room as quickly as possible to shower and put on something clean. On the way down, she ran into Nancy – ah, Mr. Wyndham-Price, who offered to call her a car to take her over. She tried to protest, but he said he would be more than happy to do it.

She went back to her small hotel room, showered, and changed into a fresh pair of black jeans and a light blue buttondown shirt. She blow-dried her hair into a nice flip, and tried not to think about what she had to do next. It was going to be a very difficult call, but it had to be done.

She sat down in the armchair next to the little table that held the phone. Her hand reached the receiver, and she drew it back again. "Alright girl, you can do this," she coaxed herself. She picked up the receiver and dialled the number she had been dreading for a long time. Breathing a loud sigh, she waited until she heard a familiar voice on the other end. "Hi, Nick? It's Cassie. How's it going?"

* * *

Nicholas Knight had just woken up from a long day's sleep. It was just another night in Toronto, solving cases for the homicide division. This last case was particularly hard to stomach. The had just brought in a man who had been kidnapping prostitutes and torturing them before killing them. He had been infected with HIV by a hooker he picked up, and this was his way of getting back at her. For once, they brought in the culprit alive. Around Nick, that was usually a hit and miss. He tended to really throw himself into his work. For an 800-year-old vampire cop, that kind of exuberance for bringing to justice evil-doers usually leads to a death.

He padded barefoot to his fridge and pulled out a green wine bottle. Looking at his fridge, one would assume Nick was an alcoholic who liked to bottle his own wine from a Brew-Your-Own. Upon closer inspection, the bottles contained cow blood. He yanked the cork out of the bottle with his teeth and proceeded to drink his breakfast.

The phone rang then. He wondered who would be calling him this close to sunset. He was willing to bet it was a telemarketer, and was going to let the machine pick up. The lack of wakefulness got the better of him, and he picked up the receiver. "'Lo? Nick Knight." He stifled a yawn.

"Hi, Nick? It's Cassie. How's it going?"

"Cassie!" A smile brightened his face. He really liked the redhead. She was so much like Natalie, it was as though they were really related. "How are things in L.A.? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, more or less." Her voice sounded tinny through the connection. "A bit of a hangover, but that's the least of it."

The smile left Nick's scruffy face. "What happened. Is everything okay." The questions were direct statements; Nick had dropped into detective mode.

"Yeah, pretty much." A pause. "I've met some people who are willing to help me out. I have a lab and everything. It's probably really high-tech, Nick, Nat would be so jealous-"

"What aren't you telling me?"

Another, longer pause. "I'm at Wolfram & Hart."

"WHAT!" Nick shrieked. "Do you know what they _do_ there? Are you out of your _mind_? Do you know what they DO THERE?"

Cassie's voice was quiet. "You said that already."

"I'm making a point." He sighed, and sat on the couch. "Cassie, that place is dangerous. It's run by a vampire! A really bad one!"

"I've met Angel, Nick. Who do you think allowed me the use of the lab?"

"Cassie, you don't understand the gravity of the situation," Nick pointed out. "Their clients are murderers and demons, and… and really evil. They've been around since the beginning of time, and they span the globe. They are Evil Incarnate."

The silence was longer than before. "Well, they're willing to help." Then she let the other shoe drop. "Besides, I've met someone else who hates LaCroix."

Nick wondered a moment who it could be, and finally asked. The response sent him into another shouting round, during which Cassie tried to reassure him, saying at least _he_ didn't try and drug her like the _last _guy did, which sent Nick reaching for even higher decibels. When Nick hung up the phone, he packed a small bag and went to work, unshaven (not like that's never happened before). He explained to the chief that there was a situation that he needed to take care of involving Natalie's niece. Officially, to show where he was for payroll, he "convinced" the chief to let him go on a goodwill mission to Los Angeles, to further support police liaisons between the two countries.

He then called Natalie, who should know what was going on with her protégé. She reached higher decibels than Nick had. She demanded that she go with him. He said nothing doing, he was going to fly there, and she would not be able to withstand the height and cold. She browbeat him further, letting him know in no uncertain terms that she was going. He used all the excuses in the book: it would be too dangerous (she scoffed); no one could take care of the coroner's office (she hired someone two months ago, remember?); she's the best damn coroner in the city (she told him to stuff it). Nick acquiesced, and went to pick her up. On the way, he called in a favour from the DeBrabant Foundation, and chartered a small plane. Thank goodness for 800 years and a really good accountant. They would be in Los Angeles in a few hours, putting them at about ten o'clock locally. Cassie Harvey was in a lot of trouble.


	7. Arrivals

**Blood Bonds**

by Sage Darkwoods

**Disclaimer:** The characters in this story that were created by Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy belong to them and them alone. No infringement is intended, and no profit is being made.

**Author's Note:** Thanks to Arkaidy and Sorsha, who looked over my stuff and gave me ideas after I left Cassie in the lobby for three weeks. Thanks also to tvnerdgirl, whose review gave me another swift kick in the ass to get this thing fixed, and moving again after months. Additional thanks to Rick Springfield, who did not continue playing the role of Nick Knight once the series started. If you've seen the 80's movie/pilot, you know what I'm talking about. ;)

**Chapter 7: Arrivals**

Nick shifted in his seat once more. He hated airplanes. There was nothing more uncomfortable than sitting in one seat with limited legroom for so many hours. He wished he had just flown by himself to Los Angeles. A glance sideways reminded him of why he didn't. Natalie had wrapped up what was left of her sandwich in disgust.

"Not liking the food?" Nick asked, bemused.

"The bun is dry," she began, stuffing the wrapping into the bag the lunch came in. "The lettuce was wilted. And beef should not be grey with iridescent streaks, no matter how much they try to disguise it with mustard." She looked sideways at him. "You know, the DeBrabant Foundation should be able to do something about the food."

"I'm not usually thinking about food," Nick replied by way of explanation. "Besides, you chose to come here instead of flying Knight Airlines."

"You know why." She turned to look at him, meeting his blue eyes with her brown ones. "Although that would be very Superman-Lois Lane of you, the probability of me freezing to death, or suffocating, is too great."

"Could you say that a little louder, Nat? I don't think the pilots heard you," he hissed.

"Fine, fine." She sank back into her chair, readjusting the disposable travel pillow behind her head. "I'll be glad to get to L.A., and get Cassie, and talk some sense into her." She poked at the thin pillow some more, then deemed it useless and left it in her lap.

"Do you think that'll work?" Nick asked. "I mean, she takes after you an awful lot –." Nick was cut off by a well-placed travel pillow to the face. He put up his hands in defeat. His point was valid. There was no talking sense into Natalie, either. The two women in his life were equally stubborn, which had its merits. The stubbornness led to determination and passion for their work, something he didn't think Cassie would give up easily. No matter how long Nat and Cassie fought over the issue, their points of view about research methods would differ. He would be glad to get to L.A., too, if it meant someone else would have to suffer the Wrath of Natalie besides himself.

It was after six when Cassie returned to Wolfram & Hart. The doorman, who looked like he had gills, waved her in. Apparently, security wasn't a big issue here. She had eaten a burger at a diner down the street, and really should have returned it for its inability to be edible. Her stomach was now grumbling its complaints loudly. A demon – she was still getting used to that – grumbled back to her stomach in response, and waved a claw at her. She wondered briefly what her stomach said, and in what language.

Lorne came down the stairs, with his assistant on his tail. Did he have an actual tail? Cassie thought it might be rude to ask. He was talking animatedly on his cell phone, and his assistant was jotting down notes in his PalmPilot.

"Carmen Miranda baby, relax! I'm sure Dave wasn't doing anything with her." A pause. "A stripper, huh?" Another pause. "But she was the entertainment at your bachelor/bachelorette party! You had quite the time smacking her ass, from what I remember." A longer pause, and this time Cassie could hear the high-pitched shrieking from the other line. "Well you looked cuter in that corset, anyway. I'm sure things will work out. I'll keep in touch, alright doll?" He hung up and breathed a sigh of relief.

"So, cancel the interview on MTV with the Dark Newlyweds?" his assistant asked, a slight smirk on his face.

"Double that," Lorne replied. "Speaking of doubles, I could use one right now. To the wet bar for something tropical?" He noticed Cassie then, and spread his arms wide. "Hey kitten! Just couldn't stay away, could ya?" he greeted her genially. "Dan the Man and I are about to partake in some liquid forgetful. Care to join?"

She shook her head. "Thanks anyway. Last night I had so much I nearly forgot my name." She took a cursory glance around the foyer. "Is Spike around?"

"Blondie Bear is your drinking buddy?" the green demon asked incredulously. "And you're still alive?"

Cassie winced. "Is he really _that_ dangerous?"

"Well, not really," he replied casually. "I've seen him drink. I just thought you might end up with alcohol poisoning." He laughed good-naturedly, as if he just made a joke about the weather. His cell phone rang again, and he raised a finger to excuse himself. "Dave? Yeah, I heard. Look, we'll sort it out." The last thing Cassie could catch before Lorne walked out of earshot was, "They were _that big_? They're practically regulation-sized basketballs!"

Left alone in the lobby, she decided to see if anyone was at the front desk. To her surprise, she found Harmony working reception. She was on the phone, but was concentrating on painting her nails a garish shade of pink. "Yeah, uh-huh… Yep. Got it. He'll know right away. Yes. Of course. _Yes_. Goodbye now!" She hung up the phone and rolled her eyes. "Geez, who ate _his_ sacrificial baby for breakfast?" She looked up to find Cassie standing in front of her, with eyebrows nearly touching her hairline, a nervous smile on her face. "Hey, Cass! How are you tonight?"

"Erm, better, thanks." She glanced around. "Where is everybody?"

"Dinner rush," she explained, capping the polish. "A lot of our clients can't come out until after dark, for obvious reasons." The foyer was nearly empty, save for a few suits wandering around on their cell phones. It seemed as though business was conducted entirely on the phone here.

"Is Spike around her somewhere?"

"He should be in the training room with Illyria," she replied, checking her watch. "It's about the time he gets his regular dose of being beat up." Harmony gave her directions, and waved as she went to answer the phone again.

Despite the directions, Cassie wandered the corridors for nearly an hour. She had found the same room three times, all of which were not where she wanted to be. She swore the rooms must move by themselves, and she should have left a trail of breadcrumbs behind her. Perhaps they were like the places in the Labyrinth, where little beings came and moved them around, saying something like "Your mother was an aardvark!" Cassie finally found the doors labelled Operational Training and Research, and went to knock. The second door flew open, and Spike tumbled out, stripped down to a pair of black jeans and his combat boots. "Thass right, little Bluebird, a little more o' that!" he slurred, as he wiped the blood from his mouth. He ran back into the room, leaving the door open. Through the door Cassie could see Spike landing a punch on a leather-clad woman with blue streaks in her hair. She blocked his second punch with her hand, and pushed back until he fell to the ground. He swept a foot out and knocked her to the ground. Cassie stared at the scene, open-mouthed.

"Impressive technique," the woman commented passively. "You are learning well from the punishment I have dealt." She began a sidestepping circle, and tilted her head slightly. Cassie found it disturbing to watch, like a panther circling its prey.

Spike picked himself up and mimicked her circling. The panther's prey was also a predator. "You call that punishment?" he mocked. "My ol' grannie used to throw a better punch than that!"

The woman tore her attention from Spike to Cassie. "Who are you, and why do you intrude on us?" she demanded. Cassie involuntarily squeaked.

Spike turned to look, and smiled as much as he could with a slightly dislocated jaw. "You might want to catch a better glimpse up there, luv." He pointed at a spot up on the opposite wall. There was a room near the top of the wall, with an observation window looking into the octagonal room. She nodded, and went to the door a few feet over.

In the room above, she found a lot of technical equipment and a computer. She also found Wesley and an absolutely gorgeous, tall black man. Wesley smiled at her and waved her in with his clipboard.

"Miss Harvey, I'd like to present Charles Gunn," he said, gesturing to the other man. He stood about 6'3, and was shaved bald. He was wearing a nice pair of dark denim jeans, and a khaki green hoodie. His slightly off-centre smile and firm yet gentle handshake was in danger of melting her heart.

"Call me Gunn," he said, still smiling.

"Cassie," she replied, and was proud of herself for keeping the stammer out of her voice.

"Wes here was telling me about your work. I'm impressed."

She could not, however, prevent the blush from creeping across her cheeks. "It's, ah, really interesting." A master's degree on the way, and all she could say was 'interesting'? She slapped herself mentally.

Down in the training room, Spike and Illyria had each gotten in a few good hits, with Wesley recording progress as they went. He checked biorhythm counts and elevations in blood pressure, and other important sciencey stuff. Spike had Illyria in a chokehold for about two seconds before she flipped him over her shoulder.

"You are getting sloppy," she commented. "Is it because of that human woman that came in here?"

"What, Cassie? Nah," he dismissed it, jumping to his feet. "I'm just throwing your guard off." He flexed his forearms and got into a battle stance again. "Come on, now's no time to be shy. Bring it, missy."

Illyria sneered, and launched into a series of swift jabs, most of which he managed to block. The last one to the solar plexus sent him staggering back a few steps. "You are not fighting back as much as before." She tilted her head to the side. "Are you tiring?"

"Not on your life, Bluebird." He cracked the vertebrae in his neck and stretched his shoulder blades. "Just testing ya. That's why we're here, 'member. Gotta make ol' Wes up there work for his pay." He glanced up to the booth where Wesley nodded at him and marked down something else of his clipboard. He then took note of what else was going on up there.

Gunn gave her another grin, and leaned on the console. "So I take it you're going to be leaving us soon?"

Cassie furrowed her brow. "Why?"

"Well, you have that professor to meet. At UCLA."

"Oh yeah!" In talking to Gunn, her IQ was dropping at an exponential rate, to the point where her verbal skills were becoming equivalent to that of a giggling 12-year-old girl. She mentally slapped herself, again. At this rate, she would soon be mentally bruised. "I'm going to be contacting him today to set up a meeting. For our interview. Because I need to meet him first." She was right: the vacation-stupid factor was kicking in.

Gunn raised an eyebrow and looked at her curiously. "You're from Canada, right? You're a bit far from home."

"Well, you know, the blood's warmer down here. Up there, it's all frozen." She let out a nervous laugh. Cassie's official mental slap count: four.

"While you're here," Gunn continued. "You really should get to the beach. Have a bit of fun in the sun before you have to go back to your winter wonderland."

"You'd take me to the beach?"

"I'd love to." His smile was genuine, and inviting. Cassie found herself gazing stupidly into his dark brown eyes, and trying to will away unbidden thoughts of the man in front of her wearing nothing but khaki green swim trunks. This time, the warm fuzzy feeling she was experiencing had nothing to do with any drugs or alcohol.

Illyria continued taunting Spike in the training room below. "You fawn over the girl as though you expect her to do the same," she spat. "You are a half-blood. There is no point. She will have no interest in your kind other than as a curiosity, a science experiment."

He bristled at the word science. "That's not true. Spent the evening together, we did. Talked all about me."

"She is trying to see what makes you function," Illyria countered. "She wants you merely for the blood."

"Yeah? Then why would she spend all night drinking with me?"

"She was trying to throw your guard off." She smirked at the stolen line. Spike scowled at that, and threw a half-hearted sidekick towards her. She grabbed the leg and twisted so that Spike twirled in the air before thudding to the floor. He picked himself up and snarled. "Even now, she shows appreciation for another of your companions. Up there." She nodded to the window, where Spike could clearly see Gunn and Cassie chatting and smiling. "I can smell her lust."

Spike's jaw dropped as he stared at the two. Gunn was leaning close to Cassie, and she was staring at him awestruck. "That's supposed to be lust for me, you dumb twit–" His tirade was cut off by a swift uppercut from Illyria, snapping his jaw shut painfully.

"Your guard is thrown," Illyria said to Spike, the corner of her mouth twitching upward. "We are done here," she called to the booth, where Wesley nodded to her. Cassie and Gunn were watching the scene below; Gunn laughing, and Cassie turning from pink to white to red, mouth opening and closing like a guppy.

Illyria strode out of the room, followed by a disgruntled Spike, who snatched his black t-shirt from the floor on the way by. Cassie excused herself with a mumbled apology, and went down the stairs to meet him.

"Does your ankle hurt?" Cassie asked him as she found him putting his shirt back on. "You know, after chewing on your foot for so long?"

"Sod off," he grumbled, and began to walk by her.

"Oh, give it up," she said, smiling. "It was a joke." He scowled in response. "Okay, fine. Your pride is hurt. Get over it. Are you busy tonight?"

He stopped and turned to face her. "Why? Did Gunn turn you down?"

She raised an eyebrow. "You said you'd show me the sights."

"Get your new beau to do it. I've got plans." With that, he stomped away down the hallway.

Cassie had seen this type of behaviour before. It was from some of the spoiled kids she used to babysit when she was younger. Thankfully, she also knew how to handle it. She needed to distract him from himself. She followed him down to the lobby, where he was retying the laces of his boot. "Spike? I'm seriously hungry. The last thing I had was the worst cheeseburger of my life. It was a crime against cheeseburgers."

"You didn't go to Pedro's down the street, did you?" he asked, straightening up. "The tacos are decent, but the burgers are… yeah, crimes against all burgerkind."

"Then I bet that you know a good place to eat," she cajoled, sidling up to him. "You seem to have great taste. In food."

He smiled. The dark mood had been broken.

"So, you'll take me out for a bite?"

"A bite, eh?" He wrapped an arm around her waist and tilted her back. "Now you're talking my language." He leaned into her and Cassie giggled.

The elevator doors dinged.

"Cassie?"

She looked up from her diagonal pose. "Natalie?"

"Cassie!" said a stern male voice.

"Nick!" Spike exclaimed, and dropped Cassie unceremoniously to the floor.

"Spike." Nick growled.

"Illyria?" Spike said, as she walked down the stairs.

Illyria tilted her head.

"Cassie." Natalie took a step forward.

"Natalie –" Cassie began.

"Cassie…" Spike began, as he helped her up.

"Spike!" yelled Angel from the top of the stairs. He was waving what looked like an invoice.

"Illyria," Spike said, as Illyria took a few steps forward.

Illyria glared at them.

Cassie shook her head and breathed deeply. It was turning into the Rocky Horror Picture Show right before here eyes. Harmony looked on from the front desk, ready to burst out laughing.

"Please stop, everyone!" Cassie said, closing her eyes in exasperation. "I can explain. Everything," she added. Six pairs of eyes turned to her expectantly. This was going to be a treat.


	8. Explanations

**Author's Note:** Thanks to Vega, who, without her encouragement (read: kick in the ass) this chapter wouldn't have been what it is now, which is loads better than it was before. Special thanks for the restaurant suggestion. Thanks to tvnergdirl, whose praise and coaxing to get writing helped me open the file again, and to making me squee in delight.

* * *

**Chapter 8: Explanations**

In Angel's office, seven pairs of eyes stared without saying a word. No words were needed, as each one could tell what the other was feeling. Nick was angry. Nat was angry and worried. Angel was angry, worried, and irritated. Spike was smug and trying his best to imitate a peacock. Harmony was vacant; Cassie wondered if she was singing in her head. Illyria was disapproving of everyone and everything in her field of vision. Cassie was wondering if it were possible for the floor to swallow her whole, and praying to whatever deity was laughing at her now that it would.

It was Harmony who broke the awkward silence. "So, Cass, who's the hottie?" she asked, eyeing Nick. Natalie looped an arm around Nick's elbow and pulled him closer. Nick had the good sense to remain stoic.

"I'd like to know myself," said Angel. Spike snorted as a few, including Nick, looked at him sideways. "Not because you're a hottie - I mean, I don't think you are - don't get me wrong, you're a good-looking guy..." Everyone had turned and was staring at him bug-eyed. Angel went back to scowling. "Harmony!" he barked.

"Yes boss?"

"Go and get me those reports." He strode over to his desk and sat heavily in his leather chair.

"Which ones, boss? The Llewellyn reports about the ritual sacrifice laws, or the reports about the Miquot Clan treaty? Or the ones -"

"Just... whichever one you can get first." He looked up to find her nodding slowly. "Now, Harmony."

"On it!" she chirped and rushed out of the room.

"So, Cassie, would you mind telling us who these two are, and how they got into the building?" Angel asked briskly, putting his palms flat on his mahogany desk.

She knew that all eyes were on her again. Where was that hole in the floor already? Her own eyes were busy trying not to focus on anyone, and instead were fixated on Angel's impressive collection of bladed weapons on the wall behind his desk. "Well, this is Nicholas Knight, and Natalie Lambert, from Toronto," Cassie started. "As for how they got in - "

"The doorman waved us in," Nick said, putting on his serious 'cop face.' "Nick Knight, Metro Toronto Police, Homicide. This is Natalie Lambert, Head Coroner." He moved to shake Angel's hand. Angel stood and took it, eyeing Nick carefully.

"I knew it," Spike quipped. "I knew Canada would invade eventually." A raised eyebrow and a pointed look from Cassie kept the smirk at bay.

Harmony had returned, carrying the file folder in question. "Homicide?" she gasped. "Which one of you did what, and to whom? Cause it wasn't me," she added, putting her hands up in defence, nearly dropping the file folder in the process. Everyone else chose to ignore her.

"And what are a Toronto cop and a coroner doing here? A bit out of your jurisdiction, don't you think?" Angel leaned forward in his chair. His tone broached no nonsense.

"Cassie called us," Natalie explained. "She's sort of my niece, and we were concerned when we found out where she was staying." Her jaw jutted out slightly at that last, showing exactly what she thought of Cassie's living conditions.

Angel gave one quick nod. "I see," he replied, not at all convinced. "So, you flew all the way out to California to check on her? With all due respect, she is old enough to take care of herself." He paused, and squinted her eyes at Cassie and Spike. "Though her choice in friends is questionable."

"That's also why we're here." Nick focussed his attention on the pair as well. "Cassie, do you really know who Spike is?"

"Yeah, I do," she said matter-of-factly. Her ire was starting to rise. If they wanted to get accusatory, then she would give them something to accuse. "He's Spike, once called William the Bloody, and he was with this guy for a long time," she jerked a thumb in Angel's direction, "doing all sorts of evil things. Both are reformed." She crossed her arms across her chest, giving him her most exasperated of looks.

"Are you sure?" Nick inquired. Like Angel, he wasn't easily convinced with a quick story. "They could be just pretending. They work in an evil law firm."

"Hey!" both men interjected.

"Standing right here!" Angel added. "We're not evil. Not anymore. We've got souls. Although some of us more legitimately than others..."

"That's not fair!" Spike shouted. "I went through tests and torture to get mine. You just got a lame gypsy curse. You didn't even want yours."

"Nor did you," Angel countered. "You got one to get a girl."

"Yeah, YOUR girl," Spike smirked. "Worked, didn't it?"

"Could we please get back to the matter at hand?" Natalie asked, a slight look of panic in her eyes. "I'm a tad concerned that Cassie is working with lawyers, instead of doing what she came here for, which is what she TOLD us she was doing?" She exhaled, hard. "I'd really like to know what's going on here."

Back to square one. The next proceeded quickly, as the two women exchanged rapid-fire dialogue, with the rest trying to follow. Some managed quite well: Nick, for knowing the women for a long time, and Spike, for having watched much more confusing things spew from Drusilla's mouth. Harmony gave up altogether and pulled a nail file from her pocket to tend her nails. The rest present fell somewhere in between.

"Well," Cassie started, "it's not as complicated as you think. I came to LA, then I went to Sunnydale to see this band – "

"You went to see a BAND instead of doing research for your thesis?"

"Not just any band, Nat, it had vampires in it, and then I went with one of them to a bar and – "

"You went to a bar with a vampire? And you knew he was a vampire! Cass!" Natalie's voice started to raise in decibels.

"Yes, and then he tried to kill me, but he drugged me first – "

"SPIKE tried to kill you!"

"I never said it was Spike!" Cassie's level matched Natalie's. Somewhere, on the street, dogs ears were starting to ring. "Can I PLEASE finish!"

"Yeah, let the girl have a chance!" Spike interjected.

"You don't get a say," Nick said. His voice was low and dangerous, and the accompanying glare was a clear warning to anyone. Anyone, that is, except Spike, who took it as a challenge.

Spike cocked his head to the side slightly and gave his best 'shit-disturber' look. This was similar to the look he wore most of the time. He was probably sired with that look. "What's it to ya, mate? She's a big girl, can handle her own mess, right? You don't need to stroll in here and save her from the big nasties." He paused as a lecherous thought crossed his mind. "Well, ya might –"

"It's not an evil law firm!" Angel's brain had stuck on that one thought, and he wanted to convey that thought vehemently to anyone listening. "We're trying to change that concept from the inside out – "

"Except no one is buying it, boss," Harmony chimed in, emphasizing with her nail file. "I mean, come on! Who's gonna believe the Scourge of Europe is a good guy?"

"Harm, you're not helping," Angel said with a glare.

"You were the Scourge of EUROPE!" Natalie paused in her confrontation of Cassie and whipped around to stare at Angel. "NICK! Why didn't you tell me? CASS! Why didn't you tell me!" Natalie's voice was approaching hysteria.

"Why, so you could yell at me more?" Cassie snapped. "Cause you didn't have enough reason to yell at me in the first place, so I'll just give you more ammunition!" She knew she was being childish. She didn't care. She was beyond aggravated.

Nick took a step towards the women. "Cassie, why don't you calm down?" he tried. He put a hand on her elbow. "Let's just go home –"

"So I can waste my time in a run-down lab with no money and no way of advancing my work?" she snarled, yanking her elbow away. "I don't think so. I've got a shot here to do good."

"The only thing you have a shot at is getting killed!" Nat exclaimed.

"She's a lot safer than you think, ducks," Spike interjected. He started to walk towards the group but was stopped short by the three identical glares. He held up his hands in submission. "I was just saying – "

"I believe I told you that you don't get a say," Nick growled.

Harmony shot Nick a disgusted look. "God! What crawled up your butt and died?"

The room erupted in noise as the vampires and humans each argued their point as loudly and as angrily as possible. Illyria's take on the matter was more decisive than the rest. She had been standing along the window, watching the scene carefully, gauging reactions of those present and coming to a swift conclusion. Her sudden movement to the centre of the room startled the group into quieting down. "These human and half-breed dramas have left a foul taste in my mouth," she sneered. "Is it not obvious what has happened? The girl Cassie has been offered a position working in the laboratories of this meagre company to replace the woman known as Fred. She will continue her research from here. The blonde pet Spike lusts after Cassie; any being with means to see is aware. Why do you continue to be so insipid? I tire of these proceedings." She turned on her heel and stalked out of the room. The remainder of its occupants stared at each other once again, and the silence settled heavily.

As if on cue, Lorne strolled in the door, took note of the tension in the room and paused mid-step. "I was gonna ask about the Little Bluebird's stomping out of here, but now I know. Who's Goldilocks?" Lorne moved to raise Natalie's hand to his lips, but before he could finish the step, Nick was in front of her, nearly hopping with anger.

Once more, the room was all sound and fury. Angel told Nick to back off. Natalie clung to Nick's blazer. Cassie shouted over everyone that Lorne was one of the good guys. Lorne affirmed it, extending a clawed hand to Natalie. Natalie shrieked. Nick yelled. Spike was laughing uncontrollably. Harmony did an odd hopping dance, trying to hold the document files over her ears to block out the noise, and yelling at everyone to stop yelling.

"ALRIGHT!" Angel screamed. He stalked to his desk, feet pounding the floor audibly in the now-silent room. "Everyone out!" he announced. "I've got work to do! Cassie, show your 'parents' the lab and give them a full explanation. Spike, go and fuck off somewhere. Harmony, bring those damn files here."

"Oh, and you have a call on line 666," she said, cringing slightly as she passed Angel the files.

"Tell them I'll take it in a minute," Angel continued. "Lorne, make reservations at El Sanguine for tonight. For eight people."

"For tonight?" Lorne, if it was possible, looked greener. "Angelbear, you know you have to call in two years in advance, and sacrifice at least a goat..."

"Make it happen, Lorne!" Angel sat with a thump in his leather chair and picked up a folder. "Now, everyone OUT!"

The six remaining figures filed out of the office, and Harmony closed the door behind them. Angel breathed a heavy sigh. Nothing, not even hiring a new employee, could ever just be simple with this job.


End file.
